


You Look So Good in My Shirt

by StBridget



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-29
Updated: 2018-07-29
Packaged: 2019-06-18 06:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15480060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StBridget/pseuds/StBridget
Summary: Jack catches Mac wearing one of his shirts.





	You Look So Good in My Shirt

**Author's Note:**

> MacGyver is property of CBS and its creators.
> 
> Title from Keith Urban's song You Look Good in My shirt, but no other resemblance to the song.
> 
> From one of JustDoIt24/7's prompts--Jack catches Mac wearing one of his shirts. 
> 
> This was a fun prompt to work with. I'm very pleased with how it turned out; I think it's one of my better smut pieces. Hope you think so, too!

The closing credits rolled on the movie they were watching. Jack reached for the remote and clicked the TV off. “Man, that was a good movie,” he said.

 

Mac chuckled from his position next to Jack on the couch. “We’ve watched that movie a dozen times. You say that every time.”

 

“It’s true!” Jack said. He stretched leisurely. Mac watched the play of muscles in Jack’s arms down through his shoulders and chest. God, Jack was magnificent. Mac wanted to see those muscles glistening with sweat as Jack thrust into Mac from above. Okay, hold that thought right there. Not happening, and if Mac kept thinking along those lines, Jack was going to notice.

 

“I guess I better mosey on home,” Jack said, but Mac thought he heard a note of reluctance in Jack’s voice. Mac knew he was reluctant to have Jack leave. Mac always was. He wanted nothing more than for Jack to stay forever, to lie next to Mac in bed, holding him and never letting go. That was just a pipe dream, but maybe Mac could keep Jack next to him for just a little while longer.

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to watch another movie?” Mac asked. “We don’t have to work in the morning.”

 

“Tempting,” Jack said, “but I just want to get home to my own bed. Been too long.” They’d just gotten back from a three-week mission and had come straight to Mac’s to decompress. It had been another hair-raising time, and Mac knew they both needed to take comfort in each other for a while. Mac knew he did.

 

“Okay, well, see you around,” Mac said. He stood to walk Jack to the door. Mac opened it, but Jack lingered in the doorway.

 

“Maybe I could come back tomorrow, and we can watch some more movies,” Jack said.

 

Mac smiled at Jack, delighted at the idea. “I’d like that.”

 

“Good.” Jack hesitated. There was a look in his eyes Mac didn’t recognize. It seemed like maybe the older man was going to say something else, but he evidently changed his mind. He clapped Mac on the shoulder instead. “Night, Hoss. See you tomorrow.”

 

“Night.” Mac stood in the door and watched Jack leave, heart growing heavier with every step. Mac really wished Jack didn’t have to go. Nobody had gotten hurt beyond a few bruises, but there were some moments where they came close, and Mac was reminded once again just how fragile their lives were. Mac really needed Jack here to ground him, to remind Mac they were both safe. After seven years, their lives were so entwined Mac didn’t know what he’d do without Jack, and every mission was a reminder that someday, he might have to. Jack’s assertion that they’d go out together was fine and dandy, but Mac knew life didn’t work that way.

 

Mac watched Jack’s headlights disappear into the night. He shut the door and made his way over to the coffee table, collecting the scattered beer cans, bags of chips, and other trash that had collected. He put the chips in the cupboard and the cans in the recycling bin and straightened up a lot of things in the kitchen that didn’t really need straightening. Mac was reluctant to go to bed where he’d be alone, prey to the nightmares he was sure would haunt him. Alas, he soon ran out of things to pretend to do. There was no putting it off any longer.

 

Mac took a shower, groaning as the hot water hit sore muscles made worse by hours sitting on a plane. He rolled his shoulders to work out the kinks. He’d be feeling it tomorrow. Mac turned the shower off. He got out and dried off, slipping on an Iron Maiden t-shirt of Jack’s Mac had borrowed one day when he spilled beer on himself while watching movies at Jack’s and never returned. Mac really wished it was a Metallica shirt, but he knew Jack would immediately miss one of those, even if he did have 11 of them. The shirt was huge on Mac, but that’s what Mac liked about it. He felt like he was surrounded in Jack. Mac forewent boxers, wanting to feel as much of the shirt on his skin as possible. It wasn’t like the shirt wasn’t long enough to cover him.

 

Mac was halfway to the bedroom when he heard a noise in the living room. He froze, wondering if someone had gotten in, always a danger in their line of work, and God knew it had happened before. Mac shuddered thinking of those times—Murdoc, the Ghost, others over the years. Mac was about to retreat to the bathroom to regroup when a light went on, and he heard muttering. He relaxed. Not an intruder, then. Probably just Bozer getting a drink of water or a late night snack. Bozer had gone to his room and crashed as soon as they got back; Mac wasn’t surprised he was up now.

 

Mac made his way to the living room. “Hey, Boze, grab a glass for me, will you?” he said, or rather, started to say. The words trailed off in shock. The person in his living room wasn’t Bozer.

 

The intruder looked up, startled. “Oh, hey, Mac. Sorry, didn’t want to disturb you. Forgot my wallet,” Jack said. He held up the object. “I’ll just go now.” He paused as if seeing Mac for the first time. “Is that my shirt?”

 

Mac shifted, guiltily. “Uh, yeah? Sorry, I’ll give it back.” He reached for the hem and stopped himself. What was he thinking? He couldn’t give it back right now. It would be bad enough if he was wearing boxers, but as it was, he’d be standing there in absolutely nothing, completely laid bare to Jack in more ways than one.

 

Jack waved off the gesture. “No, that’s okay. Keep it.” Mac swore Jack’s gaze swept over him, dark and intense. It was probably just the dim lighting. “You look good in it. Really good.” The words were low and husky. Jack was probably just tired, Mac told himself.

 

Mac wasn’t sure what to say. Jack’s intent gaze was unnerving. “Thanks,” he said, finally.

 

They stood there in silence, Jack’s gaze never leaving Mac, until Jack finally looked away. “Well, I guess I’d better be going,” he said.

 

Mac couldn’t bear to let him leave again. “No, stay,” he blurted out.

 

Jack hesitated. “Nah, I’d better not.”

 

“Why not?” Mac wanted to know.

 

“Because I might do something we’ll both regret,” Jack said, honestly. Probably more honestly than he intended.

 

Mac’s heart thudded in his chest. Did Jack have the same thoughts Mac did? “Like what?” Mac wanted to know. He intended his voice to be low and seductive, but it came out in a high, needy whine.

 

“Like things one friend shouldn’t be thinking about doing to another,” Jack said, firmly. Obviously, he wanted this conversation over.

 

Mac wasn’t having it. He stepped closer to Jack, pausing with barely a foot between them. Jack looked like he wanted to run, but he was trapped between the couch and the coffee table. “Tell me,” Mac said, voice demanding, leaving no room for refusal.

 

Jack swallowed, convulsively. Mac watched the other man’s Adam’s apple bob and longed to fasten his mouth over it and suck hard. The younger man wondered what Jack would look like marked by Mac. Mac liked the idea, a lot.

 

“Do you really want to know?” Jack asked, sounding torn between revealing himself and making a verbal retreat.

 

Mac nodded, looking Jack in the eye. “Very much.”

 

Jack seemed to come to a decision. He returned Mac’s gaze with one of his own, but Mac couldn’t decipher the emotions in it. “I want to rip that shirt off of you and ravage you. I want to feel every inch of skin, lick every bit of you, open you up and take you and make you mine.”

 

Mac felt himself grow hard. That sounded so good. Mac wanted all that and more. He stepped closer to Jack, pressing their chests together. Mac could feel the heat radiating off of Jack through the material of their shirts. The blond felt a twitch against his belly through Jack’s jeans and knew the other man was aroused as well. “Do it,” Mac ordered.

 

That was all it took. Jack grasped Mac’s face in both his large hands and crashed their lips together. It was a hot, sloppy mess of lips and tongues and teeth, no finesse to it at all, but Mac couldn’t get enough. He opened his mouth, and Jack invaded, twining their tongues together in a filthy dance.

 

Finally, they parted for air. Jack pressed kisses to Mac’s jaw, behind his ear, down his neck. Mac gripped Jack’s shoulders in a bruising grip, sure there would be marks there tomorrow. Mac groaned in ecstasy. “Yes, Jack, god, yes! Please, Jack, more!”

 

Jack’s hands slid under Mac’s shirt (really Jack’s, but Mac was beyond caring about fine distinctions). Jack’s fingers brushed against the hard flesh of Mac’s cock, and Jack let out a moan that went straight to Mac’s cock. “God, Mac! You’re so hard, so ready for me!”

 

Mac kissed Jack’s neck, jaw, anywhere he could reach. “Yes, Jack, so ready! Need you so much! Take me!”

 

Jack’s hands gripped the hem of the shirt. Awareness crept in around the haze of lust surrounding Mac, and he stayed Jack’s hand. “Not here. Bozer. . .”

 

“Fuck Bozer,” Jack growled, but he removed his hands. Before Mac could react, Jack swept him up into a bridal carry, stalking towards the bedroom.

 

Mac meant to protest, but Jack’s lips fused with his again, and Mac was lost in the sensation. It swallowed him up, carrying him away until there was nothing but him, Jack, and the kiss.

 

They reached the bedroom, and Jack threw Mac down on the bed so hard he bounced. Jack tore at his own clothes, undressing as quickly as he could. He noticed Mac still in the shirt. “Off. Now,” he demanded.

 

Mac complied, pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. He wanted to draw it out, to tease Jack the way every movement Jack made teased him, but Mac was too eager. He needed Jack, now.

 

As soon as they were both naked, Jack crawled over Mac, pressing him into the mattress and completely covering the smaller man with his body. Their cocks pressed together, and Mac gasped. “More, Jack! Need more!”

 

“Lube,” Jack said, voice rough. Mac fumbled blindly in the bedside table, finally coming up with a bottle he thrust at Jack. Jack wasted no time in slicking up his fingers and reaching behind Mac, thrusting one finger in Mac’s hole without preamble.

 

Mac hissed at the burn, but it soon turned to pleasure. Mac bore down on the finger as Jack thrust in and out. It felt wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. “More,” Mac said.

 

Jack added another finger, thrusting them both in and out, stretching Mac. It felt glorious, but Mac still needed more. “Another.”

 

Jack complied, crooking them and brushing Mac’s prostate. Mac shouted at the sensation. “Yes, Jack! Again!”

 

Jack hit the bundle of nerves again, then went back to finger-fucking Mac. Mac thrust back on Jack’s fingers, taking them deep. The blond soon grew impatient. “I’m ready, Jack. Take me.”

 

The fingers disappeared, and Mac whimpered at the loss. They were soon replaced by the head of Jack’s cock pressing against Mac’s entrance. The head eased in, much too slowly for Mac’s taste. “Harder, Jack. More. Need you now!”

 

Jack abandoned the pretense of going slow and thrust in hard, shoving Mac up further on the bed with the force of it. Mac moaned. It felt so good, just this side of painful. Mac felt so full. This was so much better than he’d imagined, so much better than anything he’d had before. Mac hooked his ankles behind Jack’s back and drew him in further. “Move, Jack!”

 

Jack began moving, setting a brutal pace. Skin slapped together, their moans mingling. Jack shifted slightly so he was hitting Mac’s prostate on every thrust. Mac had never been so turned on, never been so close to release without even being touched. Heat coiled low in his belly, and Mac knew he wasn’t going to last. A few more thrusts, and Mac was coming, hard, spurting ropes of come over his belly with a cry of Jack’s name.

 

Jack came a moment later with a cry of his own, spilling deep inside Mac. Jack pulled out and collapsed next to his lover. “Fuck, that was good.”

 

Mac could only nod in agreement, too spent to do anything else. They lay there, panting, until Mac broke the silence. “If I’d known that would happen, I would have worn this shirt for you much sooner.”

 

Jack turned to face him, cocky grin in place. “What can I say? You look really good in my shirt.”

 

Mac grinned back. “Damn straight.”


End file.
